


Here Comes the Snake

by kee_writestrashh



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 1920s america, Abuse, Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Black Mailing, Blood, Cheating, Death, Drugs, F/M, Gangs, Guns, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kink, Knives, Murder, Politics, Prompt Fic, Ramsay is His Own Warning, Scandal, Shameless Smut, Slow Burn, Smut, Torture, Tumblr Prompt, Unplanned Pregnancy, Violence, mafia, more to be added - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 18:06:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15418614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kee_writestrashh/pseuds/kee_writestrashh
Summary: Based on this prompt;  Ramsay Bolton/Margaery Tyrell- Modern AU from @asoiafrarepairs on tumblr1920s mafia au





	Here Comes the Snake

“Your lips need to be darker.” 

Margaery looked up at her vanity mirror to see her grandmother standing there, leaning on her cane. Olenna looked in a foul mood.

“I don’t want to look like a painted woman.” Margaery commented, raising a brow.

Olenna tutted, stepping further in the room and closing the door with a sharp snap. “Do not tell me you’re forgetting your job for the evening.”

Margaery gave a small sigh, reaching for the jar of bold red lip color. “Of course not, grandmother.”

Olenna gave her only granddaughter a beady look. “I do not like the idea anymore than you do, child. But you need to catch that boy’s attention. We need the Lannister’s money if your father hopes to wing this campaign.” 

Margaery dipped a brush into the pot, applying the lipcolor slowly, perfectly. She did not speak until she had finished, reaching for her rose perfume. “I know. And I will sink my nails in. I just wish he were more handsome, or maybe older? I hear he often acts like a cranky child.”

Olenna snorted, “You can blame his mother for that. You’re only two years his elder. Plenty of room to shape him into something worth your while.”

Margaery dabbed the liquid behind her ears and across the collarbone. She stood, smoothing her dress out and grabbing her shawl from the back of her chair. She draped it over her shoulders and gave herself a glance over in the floor length mirror across her room.

Olenna opened the door. “Well then, let’s get this dinner over with. Out you get.”

Margaery nodded, sweeping elegantly from the room and down the stairs to the front foyer where the rest of her family milled around, apparently waiting on her. “There she is!” Her father’s booming voice said, everyone’s attention turning to Margaery and Olenna.

“Your lips are a bit dark.” Alerie said, giving her daughter a rather critical look.

“Oh come now, mother. She looks very beautiful.” Willas piped up, giving his baby sister a small wink. Margaery beamed at her eldest brother, ignoring her mother completely. 

The Tyrell’s were that perfect little American family. They came from old money and cotton. However, after the end of the Civil War, they switched to solely politics, though their cotton production thrived, and helped clothe soldiers in the War, and the cotton prices were booming as Europe fell into turmoil and ruins. However, they were still only second best to the Lannister family. The Lannister’s owned oil, and Cersei Lannister was married to the Robert Baratheon oaf, whose family owned the Baratheon railroad, and had bought out the Targaryen lines too (Margaery had heard many a rumor surrounding this). 

Now, Mace Tyrell was looking to run for presidency. The election was still over 9 months away, but if the Tyrell’s could unite with the Lannister’s it would boost popularity and campaign funds in these last few critical moments. They were ahead on popularity. Now to keep it that way. And this is where Margaery came into play. Make Joffrey Baratheon fall for her, court her, and marry her. With the Tyrell influence and all that the Lannister-Baratheon’s owned… well, it was almost like being a queen. Daughter of the president. Wife of the next in line for the railroad, with oil inheritance. It was a perfect little life. All of it. All of it, except….  _ Joffrey Baratheon. _

But, Margaery wore a bright smile and issued small giggles of delight when the Tyrell’s met with the Lannisters and Baratheons at the ritzy uptown jazz club. Joffrey immediately stepping forward to take Margaery’s hand and give the top of it a kiss, before pulling out an empty chair next to him for her. 

“Thank you! Such a gentleman!” Margaery beamed.

“Anything for such a beautiful woman.” Joffrey said, almost as if it were well rehearsed. It probably was, Margaery thought. He only did what his mother said probably. Every word well practiced. Pretending to be that perfect man any woman would swoon over. How boring.

Olenna sat a few seats away, giving Margaery a small wink. Margaery gave a covert grin at the old woman, and took a sip of the wine placed on the table before her. 

The dinner passed in much talk about the campaign, her father’s voice increasing in volume with every drink. He sounded so confident in what he was saying. The rest of the Tyrell family speaking up every so often. All of them except Margaery. She had learned to only speak when spoken to when in such important situations. She merely sat pretty in her chair, eating little to avoid making her dress too tight.

“My mother says you just recently moved here.” Joffrey said when he had finally quit eating.

Margaery nodded, “Yes. Father thought it would be more beneficial to be more active here during the campaign. I miss home, a bit. Much warmer there. But I am starting to enjoy my time here. And  _ you _ make it a sight brighter.”

She could have rolled her eyes at the smug expression Joffrey let come over his face at her sugar coated words. “Well, I do hope to see much more of you. If our families are to be working together.” Joffrey said with a smug grin, arm reaching to rest on the back of her chair.

Cersei gave her son a side eyed look of distaste. Eyes catching Margaery’s and giving her a cold glare that seemed to scorch Margaery’s soul. Margaery gave a toothy smile and turned back to speak to Joffrey but a loud voice from the middle of the table stopped her.

“Ah! Roose Bolton! Fancy seeing you here!” Robert half shouted at the man stalking past. The man paused in his step, turning to see Robert and the others. He inclined his head slightly and gave a cold, emotionless smile, that looked as though it cost him great effort.

“Robert. Tywin. Mace.” Roose said silkily.

“Pull up a chair and have a drink with us!” Mace said cheerfully. Margaery noticed how flushed her father’s cheeks were. He was as much a drunkard and a fool as Robert. Thank God that Willas had a sound mind and head for politics to help their father blunder through this. Since finding out that their mother was sick, their father had started cracking up. But, maybe it was just the stress of that and the campaign on top too. Once the election was over, she was sure her father would smarten back up.

“I would enjoy that, but I am a very busy man tonight. Lots left to still see to before turning in.” Roose said, bowing his head again.

“Oh come on! Just one drink! We don’t see you often. Always shut away.” Robert said, filling an empty glass with an amber liquid and sliding it across the table.

Roose frowned, but took a seat and took the glass. Joffrey noted how closely Margaery seemed to be watching the newcomer. 

“I heard they call him the _ Leech Lord _ . The way he cuts people up and bleeds ‘em. They say his son is a madman. Hunts people down and strips their skin from them with a razor and feeds them to his hounds.” Joffrey whispered to Margaery.

She examined Roose for a few moments. He did give off a very cold feeling. Not a man to cross. Though, he looked every bit a strict businessman, she doubted he was on the violent side. Though she was a bit naive on such matters.

“I thought his son died of the fever?” She whispered back, trying to recall what she knew of the weapons business mogul. 

“His eldest son, yes. But he has another. A bastard. Keeps him in the shadows. They say they drink their victims blood. And you would faint if you knew the things that crazy bastard does to women.”

Margaery snorted. ‘ _ I’ve heard what you do to women too _ .’ She thought coolly to herself. Such silly stories. Drinking blood. Ha. The kinds of things you would hear in the deep south. Voodoo and gypsy magic.

“What was that?” Joffrey asked, giving her a rather accusing look.

Margaery grabbed her napkin and dabbed at her nose, giving a shy smile, “Excuse me. Something made my nose tickle. Please, forgive me.” She said smoothly, smile growing.

“It is a bit stuffy in here. Let’s step outside for some air.” Joffrey suggested, fingers brushing across her shoulder as he pulled his hand back and stood up, adjusting his dinner jacket.

“That sounds lovely.” Margaery nodded, following suit and taking Joffrey’s arm as he offered it to her.

She felt the eyes of the table on them as the made their way across the carpeted floor. Once outside Joffrey gave a sigh, pulling a pack of cigarettes and his matchbook. He offered Margaery one but she shook her head. “I don’t smoke.” Which was a lie. She did, but she remembered she was supposed to be playing a game.

“What would you say if I stopped by and picked you up tomorrow afternoon. I could take you to the boardwalk and we could get some ice lollies, if you would like.” Joffrey said, striking up a match.

“Oh! That sounds like such a wonderful idea! I would love to spend some time with you outside of everyone’s prying eyes.” Margaery said with a fervent nod. She had meant his mother. But she needed to get him on his own. Whisper sweet nothings in his ears. Make him fall for her. She was like a siren. Many a sailor had fallen for her. Did lions perhaps fall for those tricks too? 


End file.
